


< @#$#%@ leyline %#!$#@ >

by KipRussel



Series: faden in (or: how i learned to cry about dylan a lot) [4]
Category: Control (Video Game)
Genre: DLC Spoilers, Former's POV, Gen, POV Second Person, Purely Speculative, Spoilers, angsty ? maybe?, but having some wacky dream like fun regardless, i did not write it, introspective, likely not canon even remotely, no beta readers we die like we got a mail tube thrown at our head, so i included it in the end, the hotline referenced is in game but nobody has found it yet, this is weird but I had to write it eksjfhksejhf, you should listen to it dylan/sean durrie will make u cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KipRussel/pseuds/KipRussel
Summary: You feel you understand humans better than your Other. You take careful pride in that.You know the Director is aching. You sense her Guidance ache with her.You’ve glimpsed the fear in the Brother.(You understand loneliness, as Ash did. You will not fail again.)Perhaps you can reach him. Perhaps he can reach her.The good graces of the Director are something you dearly wish for.
Relationships: Dylan Faden & Jesse Faden
Series: faden in (or: how i learned to cry about dylan a lot) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089236
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, obligatory note that this is entirely new territory for me-- it's in second person POV, and is also something entirely speculative that I figure probably isn't even remotely canon. It's vague and esoteric as Control can sometimes be, and inspired entirely by Dylan's Hotline call (that has only so far been datamined from the game), which I highly recommend listening to (I'm not sure if I can link it here?). More explanation at the end!

You traverse carefully between the planes. Gliding between the rifts, the wedges, setting your plans into motion.

Now that the Astral has bled in, you have flooded in as well. You have to be careful here— though you have always been, despite the risks you took when the Resonance invaded. Here, in the roots, the Foundation, where the leech is, the attachment, anchor, vampire, spy, you risk being found. This is not your Astral hiding place. This is not the edge which you occupy. But high risk grants high reward.

You are in the House. Ash’s home. Jesse’s home. You are hidden by the Director, with ample access to both planes, and the Director is feeling the doubt you felt before you were severed.

You had assumed, at first, that she would again be the pawn, as she sabotaged your forward moves, working to gain control while your Other was distracted. She is powerful. You think she is more powerful than your Other planned for. You think, maybe, your Other is scared.

And you have spoken to her now. You have aided her in battle.

You have invested. You have sown the seeds.

The good graces of the Director are something you dearly wish for. Not necessary, but a tool to wield; to disarm your Other, free their figurehead. You have been so lonely, and you understand loneliness, as Ash did. You will not fail again. You will reach the end of this, somehow, someway.

The Director is preoccupied with _her_ Bureau (not your Other’s). She is preoccupied with her brother.

You have heard the messages. You have received the wayward radio waves. You have pirated your way into the signal.

Your Other does not forgive the resonance-addled Brother. Your Other taunts the Director.

You have seen him, in-between the pages, as you slide between the planes, as you reach for the Objects housed around you. Glimpses, flashes, waves.

The Resonance still haunts him. Your Other views from a distance, afraid of the Resonance (craving the Resonance, loathing the Resonance). Sometimes you see another— a _click-click-click_ -ing form fighting with and against and toward and away from a Darkness.

You feel you understand humans better than your Other. You take careful pride in that.

You know the Director is aching. You sense her Guidance ache with her.

You’ve glimpsed the fear in the Brother.

(You understand loneliness, as Ash did. You will not fail again.)

Perhaps you can reach him. Perhaps he can reach her.

The good graces of the Director are something you dearly wish for.

You plan carefully, reaching up through the roots, the highways, the leylines, looking for the connection, the plug, the reach, where you can hijack into the Object, the Hotline. You will have to be careful. You will have to be quick. The Other will counterattack, so you must only grab it when you’re ready. You stretch yourself thin, between the layers of the Astral and the House, until you find the Brother. You slip in through the cracks, trying to anchor on, to find your footing, without hurting him at all. Humans are so strong, so fragile.

He is dreaming (always dreaming). 

It is very crowded. You fight to have an audience.

The dream is painted by too many. The Brother is keeping control, but barely, outrunning it all. His subconscious flares and shifts at the molding and guidance of the others. The Resonance paints its wants, its perceptions, as it tries to snatch him away again. Your Other is here, in the distance. It does not see you, too preoccupied with the entertainment/concern/responsibility/micromanagement.

The House is here. You find that curious.

The Resonance writhes and warps and twists and tries to burrow into you as you enter. You opt to ignore it. The Resonance hates that. It screams at you, and you scream back, looming above it, stretching out, filling space before it can.

The dream shifts.

It is just you and him. In the Astral Edges. 

You are still looming.

You illuminate the space below you in the darkness. The brother stands exposed in it, and turns to peer up at you.

He reminds you of the other humans. You want to communicate the hope you bring to him. You want to tell him you have a plan. He cowers so far below you. He looks so small, like the Director. He does not fight back, unlike the Director. You reach out to him, carefully. He _is_ small. You try and show him you mean no harm. You mean hope.

You do not think he understands.

(You feel you understand humans better than your Other. But you fear they do not understand you.)

The dream is already slipping, and you can feel your grip being loosened as the many here vie for power and knock you loose. You do not have the strength to hold the Hotline and your anchor here. You cannot risk a counterattack against _yourself_ , so you focus on the Connection. You focus on the Brother, reaching down through the Resonance/Astral/Darkness/wisping folding space, and you forge the connection.

You see the city below envelop the Brother, you see the House, the Leech, you see the Leylines, the Resonance, and it is all filling your vision and mind and head and thoughts and perception until you cannot focus on anything but the Connection, and you hold it, tight.

You fear you have failed. (That you have failed again.) You do not hear nor see the Brother, alone in the Astral Edge.

But then you sense him, on the fuzzy distant brink, through the phone line, the roots, the Control Point, the Leyline. (Ash had named them Leylines. You used them well).

You snatch the object, forming a burning connection. You can hear the ringing. 

_Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring ring_.

You did not plan for the contingency that the Director may not pick up.

(She must pick up. You feel it. You feel the Brother’s urgency. She must pick up.)

(He knows the line is to her. You feel his muddled panic through the Leyline, but sense that with clarity. This line is to her.)

There is a click of the receiver. The line has been opened.

It is one way, but you are the Operator. You can hear the Director’s responses, as the Brother rambles on. She is trying to reach him. Physically, vocally. Surely she should know the Hotline is one way. And she cannot reach through the Astral like you. But she tries. You feel the desperation. She is reaching for him.

You have heard that humans cry when they are happy. You cannot tell if these tears are joyful. 

Perhaps the Director recognizes the monumental work you have done. Perhaps you have opened a new anchor for yourself.

No. Not an anchor. Not a leech, like your Other. A friend.

Not a friend. That is personal.

An ally.

You are the Operator on this phone line. You are the phone line. The input from both ends is foreign, and curious. You do not recognize hope here, at first. You recognize loneliness. Anger. Panic. From both ends. Input, output.

(You fear humans do not understand you. Perhaps you do not understand humans.)

The connection is severed before you intended. The Brother does it. He hangs up the Hotline. The action confuses you, shocks you. The severed connection is searing. You feel the overloading input from the Director as she shouts after him. He drifts back into the dream they have knocked you out of, and the Hotline vanishes from the Director’s hands.

You are left floating in the Astral Edges, and find yourself still stretched, clutching to the Hotline.

You release it before your Other can trace you.

You are alone again in this space.

Their ache echoes within you, and you understand the power resonance has as the grief resonates in you.

There are more players on the board than you had anticipated. Many vying for audience in the Brother’s dream.

But you have the knowledge now. And you have sown the seeds. The Director knows now, has heard her Brother. You know now what is in play.

And you can plan accordingly.

You find a crack, a wound still open from when the Astral oozed into the House. 

You nestle back into the Foundation again, to make your nest, your base, your plan.

You will need to talk to the Director again, sometime. But she is capable. And you have armed her. Informed her.

It’s only a matter of time.

* * *

_“Hello? Jesse? Hello? Can you hear me? It's me, Dylan. I'm... It's hard to..._

_I was dreaming... and I need to tell you— there was a parade. I was standing on a float. And there was... there was a woman in the sky and she was shining... bright like the sun. Was that you? I don't think it was you._

_Then the—_ _the dream changed. I remember thunder— really loud thunder, resonating— and it was night. The moon was out. But the moon smiled at me— this is confusing— smiled like spider webs, spinning, or spirals... stretching on forever. But— it was still the moon._

_I don't know, Jesse, I… around this parade, no one knew about this until it was too late but... inside the buildings, everywhere, roots were growing into the earth, and branches too... reaching for the moon._

_And no one saw that street was taking them over the edge of a cliff. And they kept cheering... and chanting. And they marched on... into nothing. A void. They all fell in..._

_Did I fall with them?_

_Hello? Jesse? Can you hear me? I can't hear you._

_This line is dead.”_

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this comes from this line: "And it was night. The moon was out. But the moon smiled at me— this is confusing— smiled like spider webs, spinning, or spirals... stretching on forever. But— it was still the moon."  
> And Former's appearance-- I feel in the dark, and in a dream state, Former's eye and appendages could draw a likeness to the moon and spiderwebs.
> 
> I don't think Former was in this dream at all with Dylan, but once I started considering the idea of Former making an attempt to reach a very scared and panicked Dylan and connect him to Jesse? I had to write it. I kept picturing it in second person, so. I got this fun experimental thing!


End file.
